The doors opened to Newslead’s fortieth-floor offices.
Kate swiped her ID at the security lock and swept through reception, with its wall of enlarged Newslead photos of pivotal points in history—immigrants gazing at the Statue of Liberty in 1901, a child in Africa comforted by an aid worker, a soldier weeping in Vietnam, and Martin Luther King at the Lincoln Memorial.
In the newsroom she saw no sign of Penny, the news assistant. But when Kate passed by the glass walls of the editors’ offices, she noticed Reeka Beck’s jacket and bag on her desk.
Reeka was not in her office as Kate went by.
But Sloane F. Parkman was in the scanner room, on the phone, working at the computer with the door closed. He was hanging up as Kate pulled it open to the onslaught of the radios.
“Hi, Kate. I’ve just confirmed that they took the injured passengers to hospitals in the area—Sinai, NYP/Queens and Forest Hills. We’re pretty sure they’re all minor injuries, one little boy with a concussion and broken arm, so no big deal on this incident. By the way, thank you for your help on my story. It wasn’t necessary but nice work, much appreciated.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Sloane?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what I’m talking about. What’s your name doing on my story, and why did you cite turbulence? It wasn’t turbulence!”
“Sorry, but I’m on duty today, you’re not. Didn’t Reeka talk to you? She’s come in. I think she’s getting a coffee.”
“Sloane, you weren’t here when this story broke.”
“I was.”
“You weren’t. You’d left the scanner room unattended to get scones. Where’s the news assistant, where’s Penny?”
“Her shift ended.”
“Penny and I were both in this room when I caught the dispatches from Forty-nine Ninety. You weren’t here.”
“I was here, Kate, when I heard the dispatches—”
“What you heard—when you came back—was the aftermath!”
“I was here! Look, I’m trying to be diplomatic but the truth is you were trying to hijack my story.”
“Bullsh—”
“What’s going on?” Reeka stood behind Kate.
“I told you, Reeka, Sloane was not at the scanners when the story broke and he’s inserted incorrect information into the story I filed.”
“What’s incorrect?”
“His unnamed sources said turbulence was the problem. It was not turbulence. It was a malfunction.”
“What kind of malfunction?”
“I don’t know.”
Reeka looked at Sloane then at Kate.
“He has impeccable sources in the airline industry. Who’s your source that contradicts his?”
“The pilot.”
“You interviewed the pilot?” Reeka asked.
“No, it came over the scanner. There was static but I heard the crew say it was not turbulence, it was a malfunction.”
Reeka looked to Sloane.
“Did you hear anything like that?”
He shook his head.
“He wasn’t here!” Kate said.
“Kate, do you have an on-the-record source confirming it was a malfunction? The NTSB? EastCloud? Any official?”
“Not yet.”
“Kate,” Reeka said, “we all know that the information we hear on police radios can often be wrong, especially with first reports. When I arrived Sloane was at his post and he had everything in hand.”
“Oh my God.” Kate shook her head in disbelief.
“What?” Reeka asked.
“You actually believe him. He’s trying to downplay this story while taking credit for it and being wrong about it. He lied and you believe him. This could hurt Newslead.”
“Excuse me,” Sloane said. “I take umbrage at your accusation, particularly after you tried to secure overtime by hijacking a call I was handling.”
Fury burned through Kate and as she battled to restrain herself she glimpsed the plastic trash can holding a white crumpled take-out bag. She retrieved it and flattened it out. The bag was from Miss Muffet’s Café & Cakes and had “Sloane” scrawled on it in marker. A receipt was stapled to it. Kate circled the date and time of purchase.
Then she took a picture with her phone.
“What’re you doing?” Reeka asked, as if Kate had lost her mind.
Sloane shook his head.
“This looks like yours, right? You’re the only Sloane in the room,” Kate said, scrolling on her phone, holding it out for Sloane and Reeka to see a text concerning Flight 4990. “And this is the timeline from LaGuardia, proof that when the plane was in trouble, you were at Miss Muffet’s buying scones. Proof that you lied.”
Sloane glared at Kate, saying nothing.
“I think,” Reeka said, “given the circumstances, everybody needs to take a breath here.” A long, uneasy moment passed before she continued. “Kate, if you can stay to help update the story, I’ll authorize your overtime. Sloane, I’m assigning you to tie up loose ends and follow up the story tomorrow. We’ll get the night desk to monitor for developments and top off with any updates. Okay?”
Reeka looked to Kate then Sloane before concluding.
“As for what happened here—we’ll talk later and sort out what appears to be a misunderstanding. Is everybody clear?”
“Crystalline,” Sloane said.
Kate said nothing, and left the room.
* * *
Misunderstanding.
Kate fumed as she worked at her desk.
There’s no misunderstanding. I caught Sloane failing at his job and lying about it. And Reeka protects him. This is how the one percenters get ahead.
One thing had been hammered home: Sloane was not to be trusted. That guy was not a reporter—he was somebody’s favor. It was dangerous for Kate and for Newslead but she had to shove it all aside and get on with her work.
She went back to her subway feature and was nearly finished when she received a text from EastCloud. The airline had just issued a news release on Flight 4990.
The flight encountered an as-yet-undefined situation on its approach into New York and 28 passengers and 2 flight attendants received injuries ranging from fractures and concussions, to minor cuts and bruising, to nausea. All were evaluated by paramedics at the airport and were transported to area hospitals for observation as a precaution. None of the injuries are considered life-threatening or critical at this time. EastCloud will work closely with the National Transportation Safety Board to determine the nature of this incident. The aircraft will be taken out of service during the investigation.
As Kate digested EastCloud’s statement, she tapped her finger on her desk. “An as-yet-undefined situation.” What was that supposed to mean? Kate began flipping through her notes from the scanner, looking for the original comments the crew had made.
New York Center had clearly asked 4990 if it was citing turbulence.